The Colour Red
by TheQuietAwakening
Summary: The professors of Hogwarts meddle with the relationship of two students in the name of house unity. What happens when feelings grow and deception results? Eighth year, post war - Written for Houses Competition, Round 2


**House: Gryffindor, Category: Short Story, Prompt: Red, Word Count: 1076**

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Red. It's a bold colour, filled with the fiercest emotion. Such an interesting shade with representations of heat, passion, love, hate; a fire that could be fuelled by any of these things. This particular fire was caused by something that never should have happened in the first place.

Professors are tricky, perceptive, meddling people. They knew exactly what could happen if they confined me, Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy to one dorm. Sure, they were attempting to create house unity within Hogwarts and we were both qualified applicants, if you ignore his whole stint as a Death Eater, but this could have ended one of two ways; one, much more likely than the other. We could have practically killed each other and defeated the whole purpose of having a head boy and girl, or we could have become friends, maybe more.

Of course, Harry and Ron were not too pleased about the situation, but there wasn't much they could do about it. They were worried about me and had a right to be. I was to be living with someone who was on the side of evil, working for Voldemort himself.

No, it wasn't exactly pleasant those first couple months, but it wasn't altogether bad. The war was traumatizing and changed all of us. I was expecting teasing, pranks, insults, but he didn't talk much. I knew something was off and I had to know what.

Harry and Ron constantly questioned me about how it was, if I was alright. I was truthful at first, saying it wasn't too terrible, that I didn't see him all that often, but I would much rather be in Gryffindor Tower.

But then, I dug deeper and what I found was a boy even more broken by the war than any of us were. Sure, some of the things he said were still crude and insulting, but his words had lost that cruel edge they used to have. We started to talk more, share our experiences, spend time doing our homework together, playing chess of all things.

I don't know why I started to lie to my friends about Draco. Maybe I was worried they wouldn't believe me, they wouldn't see what I saw. Perhaps it went so deep to think they would shun me for saying more positive things about a boy they considered an enemy. I kept telling them that whenever he did speak to me it was the same insults as before the war.

When we began to get closer and I started to truly care about him, I said nothing to my friends but the same lies. The relationship grew faster than I could have ever anticipated and so did my deception. I think they suspected there was something off, something different, but I denied it.

I really did dig myself into a very deep hole here that could only end badly. It was just a matter of time. I told Draco we needed to be careful, that Harry and Ron could never know. Now I see how absolutely stupid my plan was. I was always the good one, the reliable one, and I have been lying to my best friends for months.

I realize how all this must have made Draco feel: like I thought he wasn't good enough. Maybe that's why, as time went on, we got so reckless.

But an empty classroom after hours to snog, because we just couldn't wait until we got back to the dorm, was really just asking to get caught. And get caught we did.

Now, I am seeing that red, that colour of immense expression, flooding Ron's face as he stands before us in shock.

What is he doing here? Why would he be entering this particular classroom, at this hour of the night. My eyes spot the book bag lying on the floor. He must have forgotten it during class and put off getting it until now. Why does he always have to do that?

"You . . . how could . . . I don't understand!" he stutters, the words leaving him in his angered state. "You said he was foul! You said there was nothing between you!"

"Ron, let me explain," I say miserably.

" _Explain?_ What's there to explain? I think this says it all! You betrayed us! Lied!" he shouts.

"No, please," I beg, taking a step towards him.

"Hermione! You were _snogging_ the enemy!"

"He's not the enemy, Ron-"

"He's a Death Eater!" Now he's pacing back and forth across the floor, making loud stomping noises in his fury.

"Was. I _was_ a Death Eater," Draco cuts in, drawing Ron's attention so much he freezes, eyes glued to the boy standing beside me.

"You," he states, as if that one word explains everything. "You did this. She was fine before you came along. But she's muggle-born, right? Easy prey? You did something to her!"

"You're the one who's bringing blood status back into this. Maybe you were the prejudiced one all along. Kept it silent, waiting," Draco retorts.

"Stop it! Both of you!" I yell.

"Or what? You'll _lie_ some more?" If it's even possible, it seems as if more blood has rushed to his head, the red colour deepening to an almost purple tint. "Or maybe it was all his doing. _He's_ the one who did this. _He_ corrupted you!"

Ron is stepping closer, the anger he holds exploding out of his features. I cover my mouth with my hands and stifle a scream as his fist collides with Draco's face. _Smack!_

The fire is unleashed. I never expected things to go so far!

Now, the red I see is blood, erupting from Draco's broken nose.

"Ron! Stop it! What did you do? Take your bag, and leave. Now!" I order, my heart pounding, blood pulsing in my ears.

"Oh, I see how it is. You've chosen him," he says, eyes wide, grabbing his bag from the floor. "Well, don't come crying back to us when this goes bad. You no longer have anyone to call a friend."

Ron storms from the room, leaving me in a sobbing mess.

I stand in a desperate place between the boy I may even love and my best friend. The thought of losing either forms a deep, red hole through my chest.

The blood on the floor, the image of Ron's face flashing through my mind, every emotion running through me. Everything is red.


End file.
